


Carpe Noctem

by markhyuckfest, SlimeQueen



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Knight!Mark, M/M, Prince!Donghyuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 04:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17155151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markhyuckfest/pseuds/markhyuckfest, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeQueen/pseuds/SlimeQueen
Summary: It’s been exactly one year since Mark last laid eyes on prince Lee Donghyuck, one year since they shared their last deeply forbidden kiss, and promised to bury their feelings for each other.Now Donghyuck is back in the palace and Mark finds his old feelings resurfacing. The fact that Donghyuck is set to marry Mark’s best friend, crown prince Lee Jeno, in exactly one week doesn’t make things easier.





	Carpe Noctem

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #43  
> Warnings: none 
> 
> Author’s Note: To whoever may be reading this, I hope you enjoy it <3 In keeping with the sun and moon theme of the fest, I decided to put the sun/moon parallels into my submission as well because I thought that would be fun haha

The day Prince Lee Donghyuck, second son of the Kingdom to the East was born, the sun shone so bright that it was nearly impossible to go outside. It was the summer solstice-the longest day of the year and the brightest.

Born with skin as golden as sunshine and amber eyes, they called him marked by the gods.

The night Crown Prince Lee Jeno was born, the moon was the color of blood.

It was an auspicious thing, the priests said, to be born on the winter solstice under a blood moon. The next day, the entire Western Kingdom was in celebration, painting crescents on their doorways and offering to the gods.

In a tiny corner in the furthest reaches of the kingdom, also under the blood moon, another boy was quietly born. There was no fanfare here, no festivity. Under the rusty moon, to a humble family of farmers, Mark Lee was born with silver in his veins and stars in his eyes.

(7)

Jeno is a fickle kid. He always has been, ever since Mark can remember.

Though, he supposed, when you’re the heir to the entire Western Kingdom, you can afford to be picky.

“They both look the same,” Mark says in an attempt to appease him.

Jeno is currently holding up two pieces of cloth in remarkably similar eggshell colors, demanding to know which one looks more kingly. Mark squints at the two, and determines that they are indeed, in his eyes, the exact same color.

Jeno frowns at him. “You don’t know anything about this kind of thing.”

Mark bites back the reply on his tongue. _Maybe it’s because the only thing I usually wear is the black elite guard’s uniform or armor._

 Instead, he shrugs and continues practicing his swordsmanship in an empty corner of the room. His stamina’s been way too low lately, arms bruised from a particularly sticky mission he’d been tasked with the previous week. Jeno’s fickleness had demanded a very specific type of orchid for his wedding, and Mark had accompanied him to the top of a mountain, all the while fighting off bandits and robbers, to retrieve it.

It’s not that Jeno is a bad person, not by far. But he was born with a golden spoon in his mouth, quite literally, and Mark has troubling understanding his whims sometimes.

“I just want to give Donghyuck a good impression,” the prince sighs, and runs a hand through his silvery hair. Blessed hair, according to the priests, a sign of good fortune from the moon god.

“I mean, technically, it doesn’t matter,” Mark says, parrying through the air again, frowning when his muscles ache in protest. “You and the prince are written in the stars. It doesn’t matter what impression of you he gets.”

Jeno shoots an unimpressed look Mark’s way and continues looking through cloth samples. “It’s not as easy as you’d think,” He says stubbornly, throwing aside both eggshell colored samples in favor of a rich blue uncannily resembling the night sky, “Donghyuck is… a lot.”

Despite himself, Mark remembers the feeling of teeth grazing the base of his neck, the warmth of fingers against the flat expanse of his stomach. He pushes down the memory hastily and clears his throat just a little too loudly, then straightens up, sheathing his sword into its scabbard.

“I’m going to go wait outside,” he says quickly, “None of this tablecloth stuff makes sense to me.”

Jeno makes an impatient noise and waves him off, still staring intently at the spread of options before him.

No, Jeno is not a bad person. That role falls onto Mark.

-

Mark meets Donghyuck the year before he and Jeno are set to be married.

He’s still young, as far as knights go, so he’d only recently been promoted to the elite personal guard of the prince. Jeno had requested him personally, after a couple quests Mark had accompanied him on.

It is the nineteenth summer of Mark’s life when he accompanies Jeno to the Kingdom to the East, through flat fields of rice paddies and long stretches of rivers and streams until they get to the palace.

Mark cannot remember his first impression of Prince Donghyuck. He remembers bowing low with the other guards as Jeno walked forward with open arms, engulfing the younger boy in his embrace, and he remembers thinking that they looked like they fit together, silvery hair with burnished golden, tan skin against pale.

 _This is what fate looks like_ , he remembers thinking when Jeno tilted his head down to whisper something into Donghyuck’s ear that made him laugh, the sound like bells chiming.

Two weeks later, he’d heard the same laugh as Donghyuck had pinned him to the bed, perching on his hips, a grin tilting his swollen lips, hair disheveled from Mark’s hands, and he’d thought briefly, _fuck fate_ , his hands climbing up Donghyuck’s sides to grab his shoulders and pull him closer.

It’s been exactly one year since Mark last laid eyes on prince Lee Donghyuck, one year since they shared their last deeply forbidden kiss, and promised to bury their feelings for each other.

The problem lies in this: Mark has never wanted anything like he wants Donghyuck. With Jeno, it’s always been easy. He knows where he stands, and exactly what his job is. With Donghyuck, everything feels new and exciting and strange, like the whole world has been flipped onto its side and it’s Mark’s job to make sense of it again.

With Donghyuck, things don’t have to make sense. Reality gets lost between the dips of his skin, the protrusion of his shoulder blades, the hills and valleys of his ribs.

But Jeno is everything solid and sensical. He’s Mark’s closest friend, and Mark could never do anything to hurt him, not more than he already has.

And so, one year ago, they had vowed to never again act on their mutual attraction for one another, for Jeno’s sake.

Mark loves Jeno so, _so_ much. Jeno is like a brother to him. One that he has to bow to sometimes, and one that pays his stipend to support his family’s farm, yes, but a brother nonetheless.

But Mark loves Donghyuck just a little bit more.

He’d never wanted to hurt Jeno, but Donghyuck is a like a summer storm, ferocious and strong-willed, impossible to ignore and yet, somehow, impossible not to love.

The first time they’d been alone together had been in Donghyuck’s private rooms. Mark had been looking for Jeno, but had found Donghyuck by himself instead, sitting on a satin lounge chair and polishing a small golden dagger.

“Jeno’s shadow,” he’d grinned up at the knight, setting the dagger down and spreading his hands in front of him, “What can I do for you?”

Mark had ignored the suggestive tilt in his voice, writing it off as a cultural difference or a habit he hadn’t picked up on, and had said, “I’m looking for Prince Jeno. Have you seen him?”

“I haven’t, but I’ll help you search.” Donghyuck had said, and but there was very little searching actually involved.

In fact, they’d spent the afternoon walking around the grounds halfheartedly looking for Jeno while Donghyuck had showed Mark all the secret passages he’d discovered in the palace, the best bread to steal from the palace kitchen (to which Mark had protested vehemently, but Donghyuck had giggled, “don’t be such a stick in the mud,” and Mark had, with some difficulty, shut his mouth) and talked their way through anything and everything, from Mark’s family’s farm to Donghyuck’s strangely specific love of the north star.

Around sunset, they’d stumbled upon Jeno in the gardens with Na Jaemin, the son of a courtier and his best friend since childhood, and Jeno had asked with a gentle smile, “What are you two laughing at? I don’t think I’ve ever heard Mark laugh so loudly before.”

Mark had immediately sobered up, realizing that being in Jeno’s presence means he’s on duty now, and Donghyuck had shrugged, a grin still on his mouth. “It’s a secret,” he’d said mischievously.

It had been the first of many secrets between them.

(6)

The day Donghyuck arrives in the Western Kingdom, Jeno locks everyone except Mark out of his room, a frantic panic in his eyes, and demands that Mark either stab him in the heart immediately or fling him from the window.

Mark rolls his eyes in response and sits down on the edge of the bed instead. “What’s wrong?”

“The tailor messed up,” Jeno wails, flopping down next to Mark, laying back on the down mattress and hiding his face behind his palms. “Now I’ll look like a mess when they get here.”

Mark resists the urge to roll his eyes and stabs two fingers into Jeno’s ribcage, making the prince yelp in surprise, a hand flying out to slap Mark’s wrist. “It doesn’t matter what you look like,” Mark reminds him, “Prince Donghyuck always looks like he just rolled around in the gardens, but you have to be this meticulous?”

Jeno makes a noise like an indignant huff, but Mark thinks it sounds more like he’s trying to suppress a laugh instead. “But Jaemin and the other courtiers-“

“Ah,” Mark says, finally understanding, “So you’re concerned about what _Jaemin_ thinks. Start with that next time.”

Jaemin keeps up with fashion in the kingdoms more than anyone, setting trends and being renowned all over for his expensive but beautiful taste.

“Not _concerned_ ,” Jeno says stubbornly, “I’m just scared of how gossipy those courtiers can be. One hair out of place and there’s rumors about you being a slob throughout the whole kingdom.”

“I think Jaemin just likes teasing you. Donghyuck _is_ a slob, but you won’t hear about it all over the realm.”

“Jaemin likes teasing everyone,” Jeno dismisses easily, tossing the offending garment onto the bedspread.

“I’m sure he’ll be so happy to see you after a year that he won’t care what you’re wearing,” Mark reasons, “You’re the prince, you could wear garbage and people would still go get it in droves and call it the new trend.”

Jeno smiles weakly up at him. “Thank you,” he says softly, “For being there for me through all these dumb tantrums.”

Mark wishes his returning smile could be more genuine.

-

As part of Jeno’s personal guard, it is Mark’s duty to stay by the prince’s side no matter what.

Thus, when the entourage from the Kingdom to the East approaches, Mark finds himself standing right next to Jeno, who is trying very hard not to look visibly shaken. However, Mark has known Jeno since they’d been thirteen, and he knows that Jeno’s foot tapping on the stone pathway under them is sign of his nerves, not impatience.

The sky is strangely clear, the sun shining in a blue sky that’s so vibrant it hurts Mark’s eyes to look at it too long. It can only be Prince Donghyuck’s influence.

Mark shifts uncomfortable in his skin-tight black uniform, wishing he’d had time to find the sleeveless version reserved for summer, instead of the one that covers every inch of his body, head to toe.

Perspiration dots his temple, and he resists the urge to wipe it away. He must stand still at important moments, was what he’d been taught in his extensive training. So he keeps his back rigidly straight and forces himself to focus on the scene before him despite his discomfort.

The Kingdom to the East has always been wealthy. Their plentiful rare metal exports as well as magical ability made for a unique kingdom envied by all.

Their carriages, as they approached, glinted golden in the sun. Every belt buckle, every horseshoe, even the hilts of the knights swords, was gold. Pure gold, if Mark remembered correctly from his strategy lessons. Pretty to look at, but much too soft to actually be practical.

The long line to carriages stop in front of the palace gates, where Jeno and the rest of the royals wait.

The king steps forward to welcome the guests, and at Mark’s side, Jeno takes a step back.

Mark follows his line of sight to the first carriage as it opens. Out walk the king and queen of the Kingdom to the East, followed by the oldest son, and then…no one.

Confused, Mark counts them again. Two knights on either side in their ridiculous golden uniform, the king and queen, and the crown prince. No second prince.

From the second carriage, the courtiers begin to exit. There are ministers and nobles. Among them, Mark finds Jaemin’s long lanky form, clothed in a ridiculous silken number only he could have ever pulled off.

And behind him, clinging to the taller boy’s arm, is Prince Donghyuck.

Jaemin walks right past the two pairs of kings and queens without a care in the world, his face ducked down to whisper something into Donghyuck’s ear. The prince laughs out loud, and the noise carries faintly through the courtyard.

Despite himself, Mark catches himself straining to hear that laugh.

Jeno’s breath has gone shallow by his side. Normally, Mark is supposed to do nothing except stand straight and look menacing.

However, Jeno’s face is paler than usual, if that’s even possible, and his hands have begun to shake delicately.

Mark resists the urge to sigh and, quickly, right before Jaemin and Donghyuck arrive in front of them, grinds his knuckles into the crown prince’s side. Hard.

Jeno makes a noise like a kicked dog, muffles it just in time and Mark visibly sees him straighten and shake himself out of his stupor.

It is part of Mark’s job to be particularly observant. He’s been trained by knights and sword-masters and spies alike.

That’s why when Jaemin steps back to allow Donghyuck to greet Jeno first, Mark catches the expression that flits over his face for a fraction of a second before he schools himself back into his usual cheer.

The bittersweetness. The resignation. It’s an expression Mark knows well.

As curious as he is about that face, he keeps quiet. It’s not his place.

In his attempt to avoid staring at Jaemin’s interaction with Jeno, he’d forgotten about Donghyuck. All of a sudden, the young prince is standing way too close to him, heat practically radiating off his body.

The prince is as beautiful as he remembers. He’s slender, all warm tan skin and molten eyes, long lashes and a straight nose. His head is held high, the faintest curl of a smile on his full lips. Mark catches himself staring and quickly ducks his head, face flushing.

“The prince’s shadow. It has been a long time.” His voice is high and sharp, and every word feels like a knife in Mark’s gut.

“It has,” Mark replies immediately, his head still bowed. “We are honored to have you in the Western Kingdom again.”

“Yes, hopefully my stay will be just as pleasant as when we last saw each other,” Donghyuck says, and Mark doesn’t have to look to know that he has a smirk on his face.

“Mark,” another voice interrupts, “It’s been too long.”

“Jaemin,” Mark breathes in relief, straightening from his bow just in time to be wrapped in a tight hug from the courtier.

As usual, Jaemin is good at reading emotions and diffusing situations. He spins Mark around as he releases him, and suddenly Mark isn’t face to face with Donghyuck anymore. Jaemin grins at him, lopsided and perfect, and swings an arm around his shoulder. “Don’t let Donghyuck intimidate you,” he whispers, “He’s all bark and no bite.”

Mark would beg to differ. He remembers the way Donghyuck’s teeth felt against his sensitive skin.

-

The day passes with relative ease. Mark stays silently in one corner of the room during the feast to honor the royal families and thankfully does not have to make conversation with anyone. After that, when Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck retire to Jeno’s room to talk over honeyed wine and tiny frivolous cakes, Mark accompanies them in the shadows.

It’s not until Donghyuck smiles sweetly at him while Jaemin and Jeno are in the midst of a conversation and tells him to stop standing by the door and come sit by the hearth that Jeno throws a curious look at Mark and wonders aloud, “Why are you being so weird, Mark? Come join us, have some wine.”

Mark dips his head in a shallow bow and says. “I couldn’t, my lord. I am on duty right now.”

“When aren’t you?” Jaemin asks, a grin curling on his mouth. “Mark, you’re as stiff as ever. It’s a time to celebration, you know. The union between Jeno and Donghyuck is supposed to bring peace to the realm. Surely such a grandiose occasion is enough for you to loosen up a little and have a drink?”

Mark chews the inside of his cheek as Jeno pours him a goblet of wine and holds it out in to him. “Please,” Jeno smiles.

Mark tries smiling back, but it feels more like a grimace on his mouth. “Okay,” he finds himself agreeing, “One drink.”

-

One drink turns into two, which turns into a game of _who can outdrink Jaemin_ , which never ends well, because Jaemin’s body is a big “fuck you” to nature, and he never gets too badly inebriated no matter how much he downs. Mark is decent at keeping his head while drunk, but Donghyuck is sitting next to him on the chair, his skin and hair a deep orangey gold in the light of the hearth, and Mark can practically taste the honey of his lips, feel the warm softness of his cheek.

Jeno has never been able to hold his drink, and he’s leaning heavily into Jaemin’s lap. Even through his drunken haze, Mark sees the way Jaemin’s body tenses when Jeno giggles and nuzzles into his neck.

Donghyuck is naturally a clingy person as well, his hand braced on Mark’s thigh as he leans forward and pours himself some water. The heat of his palm bleeds through Mark’s pants, and Mark wants to grab his wrist and move it.

Disappointingly, after Donghyuck down his water, he stands on wobbly feet and announces, “I should head to bed. Wedding preparations tomorrow, and whatnot.”

“Right!” Jaemin says too quickly, carefully sliding out from under Jeno, “I’ll take you. Mark, you stay here and get Jeno to bed.”

Donghyuck’s hand slides up Mark’s thigh quite a bit as he stands. It’s purposeful, that much Mark can tell from the mischievous light in Donghyuck’s eyes. However, he nods tightly to Jaemin and waits until the two of them have left the room to let out a deep sigh.

He glances at Jeno across the table, blissfully unaware of any scheming knights and manipulative princes. He’s completely passed out, cheek smushed against the silk cushion under his head.

Mark says to his sleeping form, “I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

(5)

Unfortunately, not even a full day passes until Donghyuck summons Mark to his room.

He’s in the middle of some sparring with one of the swords masters of the palace when a pageboy comes sprinting up to him with the request. He’s dressed in golden, standing out starkly against the utilitarian grey of the Western Kingdom’s uniforms, and he bows deeply to Mark before relaying the message.

“Prince Donghyuck has called for you in his chamber.”

Mark flushes deeply. To interrupt training in the middle of the courtyard, where all the other knights are training…

Yukhei, one of the other knights, scoffs softly behind him. As if Mark can’t hear him easily.

Deeply annoyed, Mark grits out, “Fine, I’ll be right there.” And drops his sword into its hilt.

“We’ll finish this later,” he promises the swordsman in front of him, loping after the pageboy.

Sweat sticks his hair to his forehead as well as the clothing under his armor to his skin. He shifts uncomfortably, wondering if he can ditch the heavy metal protective chest plate somewhere before having to face Donghyuck. And then immediately decides it may do some good to have a physical barrier between their bodies.

The Prince’s chamber is cavernous, filled with gifts from well-wishers from the Western Kingdom. The second Mark slips through the door, he nearly trips over a little box sitting by the door and goes sprawling across the floor. At the last second, he manages to catch his balance and straightens hastily, cheeks warming in embarrassment.

He needn’t have worried though, because the chamber, as full as it is of trinkets, is empty of people.

Donghyuck is nowhere in sight.

Mark has an awful feeling creeping up his spine, and he turns to leave.

“Going so quickly?”

Donghyuck laughs as Mark startles, and he steps out from an antechamber Mark hadn’t noticed in one shadowy corner of the room.

He bites the inside of his cheek hard, crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I apologize, my lord,” he says softly, “I did not see you.”

“ _My lord_ ,” Donghyuck mocks, sweet voice filled with mirth. “I am _not_ your lord, Mark.”

Mark crosses his arms across his chest. “Do you need anything?” He asks, trying to keep his voice as neutral as he can.

“Yeah, _you_.” Donghyuck groans, dropping onto the lavish bedspread. It had been handpicked by Jeno, if Mark remembers correctly. “I mean really,” he continues, “Why have you been avoiding me since I got here? And very badly too, might I add. You can’t avoid me when you have to be with Jeno all the time, and therefore me as well.”

“Do you recall the last thing we said to each other last year? At the Kingdom to the East?” Mark bites back. Donghyuck has a way of pushing his buttons, making him snap back, unable to help himself. “We said we can’t do this anymore. I’m trying to abide by the oath we took for the sake of our _friend_ , Jeno.”

“What Jeno doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Donghyuck grins conspiratorially, beckoning Mark forward. “Don’t pretend you haven’t missed me. I certainly missed you.”

“How can you do that?” Mark asks, annoyance crawling up his throat and making itself evident in his sharp tone. “Don’t you care about Jeno’s feelings? He’s never been anything but kind to both of us, and you’re completely disregarding his feelings for you. Don’t you have any shame?”

The smirk on Donghyuck’s face drops. “Don’t you think I’ve thought about it? I’ve known Jeno since before you came to the capital,” he hisses, “Since we were babies, even. I’ve known I have to marry him since the day I learned what marriage was. Don’t speak to me about considering feelings.”

“Then how can you do this?” Mark asks, hands splaying wide into the space between them, “How can you do it, knowing that he’s going to be hurt?”

“Because it hurts _me_ not seeing you!” Donghyuck cries out, reaching out to take Mark’s outstretched hands, “Because as much as I care about Jeno, I can’t bring myself to love him! Be that my fault or the gods, I can’t do it, and I will never be able to.”

Mark’s entire body is too warm, thrumming from energy from his sparring and from Donghyuck’s words, until it feels as if he’ll burst from the pressure.

“Then you’ve doomed us both,” he says darkly before turning to leave the room.

(4)

Mark should have known he’d never be able to avoid Donghyuck forever.

He’d made excuses to Jeno all day about practice sessions and guard briefing. However, when the late afternoon sun washes everything a shade of golden that Mark can’t help but associate with Donghyuck, Jaemin finds him.

He’s hiding out in the orchard that lies right beyond the palace walls, at the edge of the grounds. He’d been so absorbed in the book in his hands that when Jaemin slides down onto the grass next to him, he jerks in surprise, instantly on alert.

Jaemin laughs at his reaction. “For a knight, you sure are a scaredy-cat,” he grins, tugging the book out of Mark’s hands.

“I wasn’t scared.” Mark lies, trying to grab it back, but Jaemin holds it out of reach with his long arms.

“Just like you don’t have eyes for the prince’s fiancé, right?”

Mark freezes. He glances furtively at Jaemin’s face, trying to gauge his expression.

To his surprise, Jaemin doesn’t look menacing or teasing. He just looks a little wistful, eyebrows furrowed together.

“Don’t worry,” he adds quickly upon seeing Mark’s stricken expression, “I would never do something…unsavory with that information. I was just wondering if I’d imagined it, but that face you’re making right now is telling me everything I need to know.”

“What about you?” Mark can’t help but ask, “I’ve seen the way you look at Jeno.”

Raising one perfect eyebrow, Jaemin challenges, “The difference is that I would never act on it. Donghyuck has talked about you far too many times for it to be just fancy anymore, you know.”

“We _aren’t_ ,” Mark snaps, just a little too harshly, if Jaemin’s frown is anything to go by. “You don’t have to worry, because it’s over between us.”

“I’m not worried,” Jaemin’s voice gentles considerably, “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt, you included. If you-“ he swallows audibly, “If you and Donghyuck love each other as much as I think you do, it’s sad thing to have to deny.”

“And yet, you deny yourself every day.”

“Jeno doesn’t love me, Mark. He never has, not from the time we were both children. To Jeno, duty falls above everything else. And it’s his duty to marry Donghyuck.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” Mark doesn’t know where the bitter edge in his voice comes from, “You don’t know that he talks about you all the time as well, more than he talks about Donghyuck. Jeno is not in love with Donghyuck. He simply does not think there’s any other option, so he’s made himself happy with what he has.”

“And what of your happiness?”

The sun has begun to set, leaching the earth slowly of color. The shadow of the tree falls over half of Jaemin’s face, the other side a warm orange. His voice is uncharacteristically serious. The Jaemin Mark knows has always been amiable and easily-amused, but right now, he seems almost burdened by the knowledge he’s shared with Mark.

“It is nothing in the shadow of the crown prince,” Mark says firmly. “Jeno is what I live for. I am honor-bound to keep him happy and safe.”

“You would deny yourself for his sake?”

“Always.”

Mark hauls himself up off the grass and shoots Jaemin a sharp look. “Are you done interrogating me? We are late for dinner.”

They end up arriving right after dinner has begun, and Jeno shoots them a puzzled look over a whole roasted pheasant as Jaemin slides into his place at the table and Mark takes station at the far edge of the room, strapping his scabbard into place.

Jaemin just shrugs smoothly and turns to Donghyuck, offering to pour him some wine.

Jeno turns in his seat and raises an eyebrow, fixing his gaze on Mark, who suddenly takes an interest in the state of the marble floor instead of the crown prince trying his hardest to get his attention.

-

After dinner, when Jeno retires to his room and relieves Mark of his guard duty, Mark finds himself wandering towards the training room.

He feels oddly restless after his conversation with Jaemin, so he decides to work that out by working out. He leaves his scabbard in one part of the room and warms up quickly, stretching out his tight muscles and putting together a quick routine in his head.

He doesn’t bother lighting the lanterns on the walls of the room. It’s always been easy for him to see in the dark. It’s almost better when he fights at night; he lets the darkness surround him as if it were tangible, uses it as an advantage and sneaks up on enemies.

Mark likes training at night. It’s always quieter than in the morning, when knights flit about the rooms like annoying children, gossiping and showing off their big shiny swords and undented armor. He can focus better when he’s alone in the dark.

He’s so focused on his work that when a small voice says, “Mark?” he nearly jumps out of his skin.

Mark squints as one of the lanterns light up. Donghyuck is standing in the soft puddle of its light, looking at him with an uncertain expression on his face.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Mark says, immediately aware of the sweat on the back of his neck, the warmth in his face.

“Don’t tell me where I can and can’t be,” Donghyuck immediately counters, “Not when you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

“It’s for the good of both of us.” Mark turns away. He grabs the scabbard he’d discarded and straps it into place again. “Excuse me, my lord, I have to be elsewhere.”

The second he steps towards the door, Donghyuck stops him short by stepping into his path, his arms crossed in front of him. “Don’t you dare,” he says, annoyance bleeding into his voice. “You nonconfrontational bastard, at least I own up to my mistakes.”

“The key word there is _mistake_.”

“Is that what I mean to you?” Donghyuck asks, and suddenly he has a hand fisted in the front of Mark’s shirt. “I know that’s not truly how you feel. I can feel it, you feel the same as we did last year. Our time together was never a mistake, Mark Lee.”

Donghyuck’s face lights up. “I’ll just have to prove it to you,” he says in a strange voice, “I’ll have to make you remember all those things you said to me. That you can’t get me out of your mind, that you’ve never met anyone that makes you feel like this.”

Mark remembers those words well. Even thinking about them, about the last time they were together, Mark feels a stone in the bottom of his stomach.

Donghyuck’s nimble fingers take to the buttons of Mark’s shirt, neatly unbuttoning them one by one. Panic leaps up Mark’s throat, and he grabs at the young prince, trying to push him away.

“We promised,” Mark tries desperately, fingers scrabbling to button the front of his shirt again, “We can’t do this again, we _promised_.”

“I can’t do this,” Donghyuck says, long fingers working to undo faster than Mark can fix, “I can’t keep these- these _feeling_ in anymore. There hasn’t been one day that has passed since the last time we kissed that I haven’t thought about you.”

“We _can’t_ ,” Mark says, tears prickling in his eyes. He wants to memorize the words that just came out of Donghyuck’s mouth, to keep them locked away in his chest where no one can reach and no one else can know.

“We _can_ ,” Donghyuck says exasperatedly, his expression turning stricken when Mark’s tears overflow, “Hey, hey hey, don’t cry, come on Mark, stop that.” He uses the back of his hand to wipe away the wetness under Mark’s eyes, “Stop crying and let yourself be happy, for once in your life.”

He stops trying to undress Mark then, which is just short of miracle, in Mark’s experience.

Instead, he grabs Mark’s wrists and holds them tightly. “Listen to me,” Donghyuck says so uncharacteristically stern that Mark actually blinks the tears out of his eyes in surprise, “You and I, what we have is never going to change. I’ve tried forgetting what we did, putting it behind me, and all it did was make me realize that I still love you. I can’t stop, and it’s futile for me to keep trying.”

“Please,” Mark whispers, wrenching his wrists out from Donghyuck’s grip, “Please, just stop it.”

“Why?” Donghyuck asks, searchingly looking into Mark’s eyes, “Tell me why.”

“Because I still love you!” Mark yells, and the noise is so loud that they both flinch, instinctively turning towards the door. A second passes in silence, and Donghyuck turns back to him.

 “One kiss,” Donghyuck says, eyes shining with desperation, “Just one, and then you can decide. If you want to walk away, you can, but give me one kiss first, and tell me there isn’t something there telling you to stay.”

Mark swallows heavily, and it feels like he has a stone in his throat. “Fine,” he agrees warily, “One kiss.”

Donghyuck’s breath trembles as he leans forward, eyes reflecting the fire of the hearth behind Mark, and he looks like he’s made of flames, hair and skin and eyes shining with life. Mark can feel the warmth of him even before Donghyuck’s hands are on the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

Mark’s eyes slip shut as Donghyuck’s lips meet his, and the world melts away to heat and light and pleasure, the warmth of desire erupting inside him, Donghyuck’s soft lips coaxing his mouth open.

It’s like the first time every time, fireworks exploding behind his eyes, electricity at his fingertips as they curl into fists, yearning to grab Donghyuck and pull him closer, his heartbeat running so wild that he can feel it in his throat.

Donghyuck breaks the kiss first, breathing heavily, his eyes still half shut. “One kiss,” he whispers breathlessly, “N-“

Mark pulls him back in before he can finish his sentence, one hand curled around his wrist, the other clamping down over the back of his neck, pulling him as close as they can physically get. Mark finds his lips again and again, their mouths meeting in hungry kisses that make his head spin.

Donghyuck makes a noise like a sigh, melts in his arms, and kisses him back.

Whatever words were about to spill from his mouth go unsaid.

(3)

Mark wakes up in the midst of the night to an empty bedroom. Groggy at first, he looks around, rubbing at his eyes when he realizes that it is still dark outside. A glance at the other side of the bed tells him it is unoccupied, the sheets thrown carelessly to the side.

The open balcony doors indicate the prince’s whereabouts, though, so after a second, Mark slides out of bed and pads with bare feet across the cold floor to the open window.

Donghyuck is leaning against the balcony rail, his slight silhouette only barely-visible against the stark darkness. Mark shivers as a breeze dances along his bare shoulders, causing goosebumps to erupt over his upper arms.

Donghyuck turns as he approaches.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he sighs quietly, reaching a hand out for Mark to take. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

Mark tangles their fingers together tightly. Donghyuck’s hands are always so warm, whether they’re scorching a path down Mark’s bare skin or when they’re simply palm to palm.

“What have you been thinking about?”

Donghyuck smiles at him, but it’s not the usual bright grin that dazzles courtiers and royals alike. This smile makes something in Mark’s chest ache. It’s a brittle expression.

“All my life,” Donghyuck says, “People have said that I’ve been blessed by the gods of the sun. They say I need to balance myself out by marrying Jeno. As if I’m not my own person, but one half of a whole. Jeno’s been given the radiance of the moon, that much is obvious, but I feel as if… he doesn’t need someone like me. I only hurt him- I always have, ever since we were young. I’m callous and he’s sensitive. He doesn’t calm my fire, he simply gets burned and tries to pretend that it’s all fine.”

Donghyuck turns his strange ember-eyes on Mark and continues, “But you, Mark, you are a different story. You’re like water to my fire. Why do I feel so calm with you and so restless without? Why do I hurt the one I am supposed to be fated to be with, and come back to you, no matter how much I try to convince myself this is wrong?”

At Mark’s expression, he hastily adds, “And I’ve tried, believe me. I have thought of how this could go so many times. Breaking up with you, marrying Jeno, telling Jeno the truth, carrying on in secret, I’ve thought of every possibility. The problem is, sweet knight, that I can’t bring myself to do the right thing. I’ve never been able to deny myself what I want, and I want you so wholeheartedly, like I’ve never wanted anything before.”

Mark understands that feeling completely. He’s used to sacrificing things for Jeno. Even becoming a personal guard had taken away his official knighthood. The other knights live and work together, but Mark, due to his duty to protect the crown prince, lives separately from them. The knights he’d trained with, Yukhei and Jungwoo and Jisung, all scoff at him in the courtyards now, wondering if he thinks he is above them.

However, Mark does his job graciously. He loves Jeno, he always has, and he prioritizes Jeno’s happiness over his own. Or he’d thought he did, until Donghyuck had barreled into his life and irrevocably changed the course of it.

The warmth of Donghyuck’s hand on his cheek takes him out of his thoughts. The young prince’s thumb traces an old scar from a mission gone wrong along the ridge of his cheekbone, and Mark resists the urge to shiver under the gentle touch.

“We can’t go back,” Donghyuck whispers, velvety soft, “I’ve given myself to you, and you to me. As the sun loves the moon, I’ve grown to love you.”

Mark inhales sharply. _As the sun loves the moon_. _One half of a whole._

“I was born under the blood moon,” Mark blurts out before he can help himself, “I was-I was born the same day as Jeno, under the same moon. We’ve laughed about it before, but I-“

“You,” Donghyuck sounds wonder-struck, his voice barely above a whisper. “You are…”

Abruptly, the prince laughs, a sharp, incredulous sound. “You and I,” he laughs, nearly hysterical, “Have been fated.”

And suddenly, it’s as if the confusion in his head has cleared. It’s as if he’d known somewhere deep inside all along.

(2)

Donghyuck comes barreling into Mark’s room the next morning, a panicked look in his eyes.

“Don’t be upset,” is the first thing he tells Mark, pleadingly so, and has time to shoot a desperate look Mark’s way before Jaemin lopes into the room behind him.

Mark barely ever has company in his room. The stray knight, once or twice, but never anyone of Jaemin or Donghyuck’s status. And suddenly both of them are cornering him, Jaemin with his hands on his hips, Donghyuck looking absolutely horrified.

“What-“ Mark has time to say before Donghyuck interrupts, “Please, just say you won’t be upset at me.”

“He has every right to be!” Jaemin snaps, and Donghyuck has the grace to look properly abashed.

“This _idiot_ ,” Jaemin points a finger Donghyuck’s way, and the prince shrinks under his glare, “told Jeno some tale about you being blessed by the moon, and gave that as reason for not being able to marry him.”

Mark blinks. He looks from Donghyuck to Jaemin.

They’re both staring at him expectantly, Donghyuck like he’s ready to go on the defensive, Jaemin like he’s ready to strangle them both. Mark inhales.

“It’s true.” He says.

And then, all hell breaks loose.

-

There’s pandemonium in the priest’s quarter of the palace. Everywhere Mark looks, there are frazzled priests with moon charts and history scrolls, frantically reading through records.

In the midst of the chaos, Mark stands with Jaemin and Donghyuck. Jeno had popped in at some point, but he’d taken one look at Mark and had fled the scene, his face an odd shade of pink.

Mark knows he should be concerned about that, but the royal diviners are taking up all his attention at the moment, inspecting every bit of his body, taking a small sample of his blood, asking him to recite prayers he hasn’t thought about since he was a young child.

Donghyuck has been nibbling at his nails for the past hour, thumb shoved between his lips, wide eyes flitting between Mark, the door, and Jaemin, who has been strangely quiet through the whole thing.

“We should go check on Jeno,” Donghyuck says eventually, soft enough that only Mark and Jaemin can hear him, “I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

Jaemin makes towards the door but Mark stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go.”

“But-“

“Please,” Mark pleads, “This is all my fault, let me at least try to fix it.”

Jaemin stares into his eyes for a second before nodding tightly.

Mark goes.

-

As it turns out, no one has seen Jeno all day. They’ve all been too preoccupied with wedding preparations, ironically enough.

He checks the library, the training room, and every nook and cranny until he finally reaches the tower Jeno’s rooms are in.

Mark pauses outside the heavy wooden door. He hears the sound of soft muffled sobs, and it makes something in his chest drop into his stomach.

He knocks, waits until the sound has stopped, and calls softly, “Jeno, please open the door.”

Jeno does not open the door. In fact, he throws a few choice words at it, and Mark flinches delicately, trying not to let it perturb him.

“Please,” Mark says, “Jeno, you’re my best friend, I can’t lose you. Please, just talk to me.”

After a second of silence, the door creaks open a bit, and Jeno’s pale face appears in the crack. Mark slides into the room and Jeno shuts the door behind him.

Jeno’s face is pallid and tear-streaked, his eyes rimmed red when he fixes his gaze on Mark. “How could you?” he whispers, and it’s worse than any curses or blows that he could have dealt.

“I-“ Mark shuts his mouth. Opens it again. Shuts it. “I’m sorry,” he says finally. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You can’t _fix_ this, Mark,” Jeno says, exasperated, “There’s no amount of sword fighting and questing that can fix this. You can’t just defeat a dragon and solve everything this time.”

“Then tell me what I _can_ do!” Mark shouts. The noise resonates too loudly around the room, but Mark can’t bring himself to hold his tongue anymore. “What am I supposed to do? I can apologize a million times, but that’s not going to make me stop loving him!”

“I never asked for you to apologize!” Jeno shouts back. The sound of his own voice echoing off the cavernous walls brings him back to himself, and he blinks slowly. He starts again, this time quieter. “I can’t be angry with you for just _being_. You can’t fix this with words. The only way it’ll stop hurting is with time, and you won’t leave me alone to process. How am I supposed to deal with this if you’re always here, if you’re like- like a constant reminder?”

Mark blinks slowly. His anger, which had been rearing its head so ferociously up till now, dissipates like a blown-out flame.

“I-“ he hangs his head, and says resignedly, “I understand.”

Jeno nods tightly, and Mark takes that as a dismissal.

He slips out the door, blinking tears out of his eyes. However, someone is attempting to walk in at the same time, and Mark goes barreling to a solid chest.

Jaemin is standing in front of him, a solemn expression on his normally cheerful face. “Hi,” he grins weakly.

Mark kind of wants to bite his tongue out of his mouth. Instead, he swallows his shame and replies with a quiet, “hello.”

Jaemin gives him a sad sort of smile. “We’re in the same boat, aren’t we?”

“A boat that’s quickly sinking, I’m afraid,” Mark says.

Jaemin shakes his head, putting one hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Listen to me,” he says rather urgently. “I’m going to talk to him. Explain how I feel, maybe. I know it won’t…it won’t make the hurt go away, but I think he deserves to know. To have another option, at least.”

Mark bites his lip. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he means it. “If it weren’t for us, you wouldn’t have to-“

“It’s okay,” Jaemin says shortly, “It was going to happen sooner or later. I’m almost glad, that there’s a reason for me to tell him, as fucked up as that is.”

Mark nods as Jaemin continues towards the door. As he slips into Jeno’s room, Jaemin adds like an afterthought, “Mark?”

“Yes?”

“You deserve to be happy, you know.”

(1)

The four of them meet in Donghyuck’s room. Jeno looks like he hasn’t slept in days, dark circles under his eyes, his normally meticulous hair ruffled and messy. Jaemin looks as perfect as always, not a hair out of place, and he sets himself down at the head of the table.

Donghyuck slides in last, glancing at Jeno, then flashing a look at Mark, eyebrows drawing together.

Mark slides into the last remaining chair once the rest of them have sat down.

“So,” Jaemin says, long fingers lacing together under his chin, “What are we going to do about this little mess?”

(0)

On the morning of Jeno’s wedding, Mark wakes up with a headache. It’s been storming all night, and the gloomy weather is reflected in the throbbing in Mark’s temple. He rises later than he usually does, when the sun is already high in the sky. There is no early morning training today.

He prepares himself mentally for the day ahead, fingers shaking as he finishes buttoning the black guard’s uniform. There’s something settling heavily in the pit of his stomach, a cross between dread and anticipation.

His fingers dance nervously over the hilt of his sword throughout breakfast. Jeno wakes up late and arrives at breakfast with his hair disheveled, his clothing askew.

Donghyuck is also uncharacteristically quiet through the whole affair.

“Is there nothing that can be done about the weather?” Jaemin wonders, looking at the thick grey clouds in the sky. He turns to Donghyuck, who shakes his head grimly.

“I’m trying,” he says, “But I’m exhausted. I can clear it up for the ceremony, but not the whole day.”

Jaemin frowns, picking at the food in front of him. “I see,” he says, but Donghyuck isn’t listening anymore. He looks lost in his own head, eyes a million miles away.

Mark sighs, tapping his nails against the hard hilt of his sword again.

There’s a restless energy over all of them, one that won’t let Jeno’s foot stop shaking under the table, that makes Donghyuck spacey and out of it, that makes Jaemin endlessly frustrated, and most of all, gives Mark a migraine like nothing he’s ever felt.

The day passes with slow, tense energy. Jeno gets ready silently, solemnly. For once, he has no opinions about the fanciful silk fabrics they drape over his body, or the white powder they cake onto his face. He says nothing when a servant accidentally spills some water on his shoes while trying to give him a goblet to drink out of.

And then it’s time for the ceremony.

As Jeno’s guard, Mark stands close enough to the altar to be within earshot of everything that happens. It’s an honor that is rare for a knight, to witness a royal wedding so close up, but Mark wants to be able to see everything, to commit this to memory.

As promised, when it comes time for the ceremony, Donghyuck has worked his magic and the sky has cleared up.

It had been difficult, spinning the whole situation in such a way that the masses would not have a hard time coming to terms with what is happening.

The priests’ sudden decision to announce Mark’s blessing had come as a surprise, but it’s a welcome one, if it means he’s free to be with Donghyuck.

The soft chiming of music startles him out of his thoughts; the ceremony has begun.

Jeno is led to the platform first, clothed entirely in a dark blue shade made to mimic the night sky. Behind him, wearing warm golden and a gracious smile on his face, is Jaemin.

Beside Mark, Donghyuck makes a soft noise. When Mark looks over, the younger boy catches his eye and gives him a small smile. Mark finds himself smiling back automatically.

In the space between them, where no one can see, Donghyuck tangles their fingers together, and Mark feels right for the first time all day.

They have a long way to go until they can announce their relationship, but Mark can wait as long as it takes, when it comes to Donghyuck.

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/_johnten)


End file.
